Let Me Feel
by The B.A.T
Summary: A monster and his sister learn to understand one another under the desert sky. As Temari shall soon discover, perhaps Gaara's road to recovery began long before he met Uzumaki Naruto...


This is my first Naruto fic. It's a one-shot, and no, it is not some perverted pairing. I think there is a special bond between Temari and Gaara, and this is my attempt at exploring it. I did my best to bring it out, and I would appreciate feedback. Since I'm at a standstill, trying to see what happens next in the manga, one could also say that this is what I'm doing to until I am ready to do a TemaShika fic. With this out of the way, let me say this, which you should already know:

I don't own Naruto. I'd be flattered if you thought I did, but I really don't, regardless of how you feel.

That said, read, review, and hopefully enjoy!

**_Let Me Feel…_**

For many years, it had seemed that Gaara of the Desert had finally managed to affirm his reason for living, and during those years, with all the instability that surrounded both his body and mind, he had found some sort of peace. But his motivation for living and his reason for existing in a world that did not want him were not the only questions he needed answered.

Through events beyond his control, Gaara had come to be the way that he was through the ritual binding of an elder priest born long before his time, and the sand's will to protect him came from his mother's wishes to seek revenge upon his homeland. Although she had also given him the wish that he live by naming him Gaara so that he could love himself and fight only for himself, even he felt like his life was not his own to live.

He gripped his head in a vicious frenzy as another surge of pain ripped through him.

_Why…? _he thought, seeking desperately to control the murderous urges of Shukaku. _Why is it that everyone else has control over my life but me? I find peace in the blood of my victims, but even that is not for me. My mother protects my life, but only to use me so that she can carry out her will. I do not understand…_

The pain began to subside, and the room around him began to come back into focus, but the questions continued to linger, and since he could find no solace in sleep, there was no relief from the thoughts that branded themselves deep within his mind. With the Chuunin Exam fast approaching, he needed those answers, or else he might do something terrible.

_Just what was my mother like? _he wondered. _Yashamaru always spoke so highly of her, so how can she be this hateful person inside me who uses me as a tool? Who was she, really? Is it because of father that she is this way, or is this simply a revelation of her truest nature? I do not understand…_

And then a thought came to him, a most wondrous thought. He had seen it before, looking at old family pictures and then at his siblings. Kankurou looked so much like his father, and Temari had a strong resemblance, at least in the face, to his mother—he could never call her late or deceased, for she still lived strongly, her will forever ingrained in the sand that protected him when the Sand had deserted him.

_Perhaps I can find the answers I seek from Temari, _thought Gaara with a newfound curiosity and an interest in something other than death that both frightened and intrigued him on a much more subconscious scale. Temari had been alive for three years before he was born; surely she would know more about his mother, the person, than he had come to understand about his mother, the hateful cursed will and spirit. He left home that night to continue his natural hobby of gazing upon the night sky since sleep was, of course, never an option. Atop his house, the moonless sky let him know that he would have some temporary peace, so he could pursue the questions he had with little interruption.

Finding Temari was the difficult part. When home, his siblings made it their business to distance themselves as far from him as was possible. Temari was more stubborn about this than Kankurou, though. He had overheard his father say on several accounts that it was because she was female, and just felt a natural need for more privacy, but he never understood what that meant. He _did _know that Temari would most likely be bathing at the oasis in the morning when there would be no one else out to notice.

_No one fears her. So… why is it that she desires to isolate herself more than I? This, too, I do not understand. But I will find out tomorrow._

Gaara continued to stare off into the distant night sky, resolute in his intent when morning next came.

As the night sky gave way to the purples and fuchsias of dawn, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_Soon…_

In a shroud of sand, Gaara disappeared from the rooftops. Where he next appeared was behind the large dunes that looked upon the surface of the village's oasis. With the night sky still lingering over the oasis, the surface was too dark to see a reflection in, a cool, dark obsidian color. Gaara looked upon the water with intrigue. He had only known water to be a source of refreshment.

Just as he had begun to suspect that Temari would not show up, a shadow approached from the village streets. Sure enough, Temari came into view, carrying the fan that never left her side. Although he'd never really cared to understand his troublesome siblings, he always suspected that Temari would rather die than to look vulnerable at any time; the fact that she had brought her weapon, even though that was what a wise ninja did, was more than enough proof of that.

She planted her fan firmly into the sand surrounding the oasis, a dull _thump _reaching the distant ears of Gaara, and then she began slowly removing her clothes. A strange feeling began to emerge from deep within Gaara, a feeling that twisted his stomach, and not his head, so foreign to him that even though it never hurt like when Shukaku tried to take over, it proved to be far more unbearable.

_Is this…shame? _he thought. _Part of me is saying that I should not be here, but I do not understand why. What is it about her that makes me feel this way?_

First came the red sash that hung idly around her waist. She let it drop limply to the desert sands, and the morning winds blew it until it rolled and twisted around her closed fan. Next to go were the bands that tied her hair back. The golden hair fell around her neck and shoulders, and Gaara's eyes widened in horror.

_M-mother…? _He had seen that face in pictures countless times, and he even acknowledged that Temari had a strong facial resemblance to her, if one were to look past the cold eyes and the sneer that always curved upon her lips. It was as though he were looking at the dark side of his mother, the side Yashamaru had told him of before death. Whatever inhibitions Gaara had earlier, he was sure of it now; he had to talk to her, no matter how he felt.

And yet, a strong curiosity kept him from going to confront her then, when she was still fully clothed. He had to watch her remove her cream-colored shirt and her forehead protector, then her fishnet undergarments, and she stood there, covering her breasts, looking for the first time since he'd seen her, vulnerable. He was certain that the force keeping him rooted to that dune was his desire to understand his mother, but far more subtle than that…

_Is this… what a woman is? _he wondered. The anatomy was certainly different, he noted, and there seemed to be a sort of frailty that he could not place as he gazed upon her naked body. He almost concluded that the feeling it gave him was that he needed to protect such frailty, but doing things for others was stupid, and he immediately abandoned the notion. He watched carefully as his older sister took a washcloth and walked slowly to the edge of the water, the wind blowing her hair behind her, her clothes and sash flickering wildly in the distance. He watched the delicate, graceful movements of her curves, and he saw her flinch as she tested the oasis section reserved for bathing with her foot.

_Must be cold…_ he thought. As soon as that thought had crept into his head, he saw a look of resolve form on her face. She took a step back and jumped in. A few seconds later, her head resurfaced. She shook her head, and water flew in every which direction. She kicked off and let the water carry her, face-up and eyes closed for a moment, allowing her a chance to soak and relax. From what Gaara saw, she seemed to be enjoying it.

The sky was beginning to turn a light shade of blue and, Gaara, amazed as he was, shook his head and formed a hand seal; he was running out of time before she would leave. His body became sand, and he disappeared.

Temari opened her eyes and shifted her body's position, swimming back to the edge, keeping herself submerged in such a way that only her head was visible. Her hair clung to her face and neck in a damp mess. Still clutching the washcloth, Temari looked up and gasped. Staring down at her was her younger brother, with cold, unreadable eyes.

"Gaara!" she gasped. She pushed away from the edge of the oasis and lowered herself into the depths so that her mouth was barely above the water. There was a strange, fearful look in her eyes, but it was not the fear and hatred that Gaara had come to know well from the Hidden Sand. It was a different fear, an embarrassment of sorts, as though he'd caught her in a rather compromising position.

As he thought about it, that new feeling resurfaced, and he clutched his stomach in surprise and averted his gaze.

"G-gaara…" Temari finally managed to say. "What are you doing here? Don't you know better than to intrude upon a lady's bath?"

"I… don't know what you mean," said Gaara, forcing himself to look at her face, where he saw a slight tinge of pink around her cheeks. "I simply came to talk to you since this might truly be the only time you're alone."

****"All the same, Gaara," Temari protested. "You could have waited until I had some clothes on! Don't you like to be alone when you bathe?"

"I- I don't bathe…" he replied plainly. "The sand has always cleaned me and kept me clean."

"Oh… I see… I never knew that…."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't."

"So… what is it that you wished to talk to me about?"

"It's… about mother…"

"What? What about her?"

Gaara took a moment to choose his words carefully. As he looked upon his sister again, he saw the expression of embarrassment and vulnerability fade away from her. She seemed to be a little more focused.

"I was wondering what she was like, and I thought you might know because you were old enough to truly remember her, even if only for a short time. Also…." His voiced trailed off and he looked down at the ground; this was awkward, and anything that made him feel awkward was immediately fed to the gourd, but since he needed an answer, putting up with the awkwardness was a necessity. Gaara would never admit it to himself, but for the first time since he'd killed Yashamaru, he felt genuinely afraid.

"Also what?" asked Temari.

"Also… you look like her, so I thought maybe I could understand her better if I came to talk with you."

"I see… why does this concern you?" replied Temari. She seemed as intrigued with Gaara's curiosity as he was with her memory of their mother. Gaara looked up at the sky, as though he were trying to discern the answer to her question. The morning light was now beaming down upon them. Temari shifted nervously. If this took too long, she would have unwanted company. The females in the village bathed first, and then the males, but there were always bratty, immature boys who exercised their stealth ninja skills and set themselves up early on for a rather eventful morning.

Temari hated that, and made sure she would not play that game. The other females knew of their voyeurs and flaunted their assets as if to flirt. Although males wooed their wives, this was the silent preparation for marriage; those males who liked what they saw would one day propose, and that would be that. But Temari would never take part in something so degrading. No male would look upon her except that she allowed it, but for the first time, she had no choice. After all, Gaara was death, and there was no mortal who could deny death what it wanted.

Even so, his eyes were not filled with immaturity, lust, and things that dehumanized her. She had never thought about it before, but Gaara must have had some areas in which he was still quite the child. Understanding women would have been unnecessary for him; no one would marry him, and he would probably never mature sexually to understand desire, and if he did, no one would be around to give him that pep talk or to fulfill that desire. In this moment of humiliating vulnerability, Temari understood more about how her brother's mind worked than in twelve years of studying and controlling him.

"Simply put…" he finally said, "it just does. Now, will you tell me or not?"

Temari bit her lower lip. The last thing she wanted was to excite Gaara if she could avoid it, especially during the time of month when he was most in control.

"I never really knew our mother," she said, searching her thoughts as she spoke to him. "What I do remember was that mother used to cradle me in her arms while she would sing soft lullabies—but I don't remember the words—and father just looked upon her with eyes that seemed to suggest that he had plans for her. I don't think he ever truly loved her…."

Gaara noticed the stiffness in her voice, and from where he stood he could have sworn that she clenched her fists beneath the water's surface. He was not the only one who hated the Kazekage, their father.

"I don't really remember much," continued Temari, breaking Gaara's train of thought. "I just know that during the time she was pregnant with you, she was no longer the person I remembered her to be. There was less life in her smile, and by the time you were born, she didn't smile at all."

Gaara's eyes widened for a moment.

_She died cursing this village_... 

Familiar words from a time in his life that he longed to forget. His mother died because of him… and because of his father, as well. And now, before him stood the closest thing he had to her essence, carrying a lingering feeling of hatred towards the one responsible for so much misery… especially his own. He clenched his teeth, and she stepped back defensively. Their father was a man who truly deserved to die… and yet, despite the power the man had given him, that was one ninja whose existence he did not have the ability to erase, even with Shukaku's aid. As a result, he had to derive satisfaction from knowing that his father did not have the power to kill him, either.

"Gaara…" she said, and he sensed that she was afraid he would lose control, but this was _his _anger, an anger she shared with him, one marked with the strongest stability his mind had ever known. Feeling so much in common with her, he finally saw someone whose life he had decided that he would never take; protecting that life, well… he wasn't sure he would ever do _that_, but not being the one to kill her, and maybe even listening to her, well… that was something he _could _do.

As his anger subsided, whispers and snickers crept into his ears. He was not the only one to hear them.

"Who's there?" shouted Temari, but Gaara was already ahead of her. With a provocative gesture of his hand, sand blew forth from the distant dunes, and three boys from the village were dragged to the other end of the oasis by his sand. They were terrified.

"What are you doing here?" Gaara demanded.

"N-nothing! We were just on our way to meet our instructor for a mission!" said the boy on the Gaara's right, trying to pry free of the sand that kept his legs shackled to the ground.

"Liar… I've had several sand eyes scouting the area, and you have been here for a good while, watching, waiting… but waiting for what, I do not know. If you are honest with me, I will spare you."

"Gaara," Temari murmured angrily, "they were here to spy on me."

"No! We really weren't!" cried the middle boy, the look of terror on his face growing increasingly apparent. "Honest! It's not what you think!"

"What do you mean?" asked a confused Gaara, paying no mind to the boys caught in his trap.

"Boys come to the oasis every morning and spy on girls, the bastards."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"There's plenty of things wrong with it," sneered Temari, glaring at the boys, who began to whimper and cower; one was even wetting his pants. "It's not something you should do, looking upon a naked woman's body without her permission. They're perverts…"

But as she explained this to Gaara, that feeling returned to him. If they were offending her by being here, then what had he been doing? It was a strange feeling, and he knew what it was; it was that same feeling he'd felt when he had wounded Yashamaru the day his former guardian stopped him from killing several village children.

It was guilt.

"I wish they'd just die," she finished. "Get out of here! How _dare _you try to look at me while I'm bathing?"

"Ha!" shouted the oldest-looking boy, apparently the leader of the small group. He had apparently let his fear take control of his words, and therefore, he was not thinking. "Why would we want to look at a monster's sister?"

The other boys shouted as well, and Gaara looked at his sister, shocked at her expression. Her eyes were watering angrily, and she was looking down into the water with gritted teeth; she was ashamed. Rage consumed him, and without thinking, he summoned the sand to wrap around them. She looked up in surprise, but she was nowhere near as shocked as the boys who had let their mouths lead them to an early grave.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Killing them," said Gaara calmly, directing the sand to cover them so that they could not scream.

"Stop it, Gaara," said Temari under her breath. "Please…"

Gaara could hear the muffled screams beneath his Desert Coffins. That familiar, comfortable feeling of bloodlust returned to him, and he was no longer aware of where he was. He would suffocate them, and enjoy their struggles to breathe before they died, and then, only then, would he take their blood with one, well-placed crush. He was smiling, he was sure of it; this was what he was used to. To hell with shame and guilt. After all, he loved only himself, and fought only for himself. This was his ninja way.

"Gaara!" screamed Temari, rushing out of the water and grabbing his hand before he could do anything else and he froze, losing concentration. The sand fell limply to the ground, along with the three gasping boys, who, despite their shortness of breath, had no trouble picking themselves up and running back to the village, all the while making sure to avoid Gaara by taking the long way. The normal pain, the interference with his bloodthirsty tendencies, took over, and he fell to his knees groaning and trying to reestablish control. Temari looked on with frightened eyes.

"Why…?" he asked. "Why did you stop me?"

"Because, you were about to kill them," said Temari, who looked as though she might also run. "Why did you try to kill them?"

"I don't know… all I was thinking about was how you looked and that you said you wished them dead."

"When did I…" began Temari, but she knew the answer before she even finished the question.

_I wish they'd just die…_she had said, completely mortified by their presence. Had Gaara actually been defending her, even if he did not know it himself? He would probably not see the action as such, but Temari did, and deep down she felt a flicker of happiness. Gaara _cared_, and that was enough for her. If he cared, then he was most likely capable of love, and she fought back a smile. He wasn't as evil as her father and the village had thought him to be.

"Temari…" said Gaara, turning to face her. For a second, he looked her in the eyes, looked her up and down, then averted his gaze once more.

Temari suddenly realized the source of his embarrassment. She was standing there, completely naked, and she tried to cover herself with her arms in a defensive motion. She took several backward steps, desiring to return to the water where she could bathe and still maintain a comfort zone when…

"Wait," said Gaara, forcing himself to look at her.

"What is it…?" said Temari. She hated this feeling of vulnerability, and despite her newfound affection for Gaara, she wished that his inquisition would end. He stepped forward, and she dared not move. He was staring at her body, and she tightened her hold around herself. He reached forward, almost as though he were…. "What are you…?" she asked, but he had already touched her left breast. She flinched in response, partially because she was quite sensitive, a secret she made sure remained kept by avoiding people.

"Is this… what mother felt like?" he asked, ignoring her embarrassment and searching. Her body fascinated him. He sent one hand up and down her body, unaware that she was shuddering. There was no lust in his action, only curiosity. She was so soft and smooth. Then, as he moved his hand to the area where her legs met, she stepped back, avoiding his touch there. He looked up at her eyes for an answer to her action, and she was red in the cheeks, breathing hard, eyes full of an embarrassed amazement. He understood then, that frailty. There was something naturally precious, inherently innocent… a sort of sacred beauty about the female body. He was sure of it, then. There was something in this world other than himself that he did not wish to destroy.

"Gaara, I…" Temari said, shocked at her brother's actions. Gaara looked away again.

"Sorry…." That was what she could have sworn she'd heard him say. In an instant, he disappeared in a whirl of sand, and he was gone. Temari looked around, and noticed that the morning light was already well upon them. Doors were opening and the morning light began to breathe life back into Hidden Sand Village. It was now too late to bathe herself thoroughly. Temari quickly dressed and headed back for the village.

In that strange encounter between the two siblings, Gaara had finally been able to understand something about his mother that he could not have gotten from Yashamaru's harsh, dying words. He felt a sort of attachment to the gourd on his back. As for his feelings toward Temari, she became the first person he acknowledged other than himself. Deep down, however subconsciously, his desire to be loved by someone had been rekindled.

It was this feeling that made him start talking to the gourd in the hopes that his mother could hear him… and possibly even love him if he became her will. It was this feeling that resurfaced so strongly, though he could not see it as such then, that would trigger his headaches as Gai protected Rock Lee. He needed someone who cared about him, whether he agreed with it or not. Truthfully, the subconscious part of him that wanted his mother's love saw an opportunity to find it in Temari, but even that part of him found it silly, so there were never any actions of his that pointed in that direction.

As for Temari, she looked at her brother in a completely different way. He was still dangerous and deadly, but she felt genuine pity for him.

_Let me feel…_ he would often say as he lost control, and for a long time, because she had heard how he defined his purpose for existence, she thought the next word was 'alive'. But from that day on, she understood…. The word he was searching for, and therefore unable to grasp, was 'love'. He was searching for a mother's love, and since he could not have that, she would try to give him a sister's love. Her actions became for his sake as well as her own. If he were losing control in her presence, she was fighting to preserve the child that he had revealed to her that morning, possibly even more than she was fighting for her life or the lives of those around her.

After all, he was her little brother, and little brothers needed—no, they _deserved_—to be taken care of.


End file.
